


When Fate Deals Its Mortal Blow

by ellieellieoxenfree



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Femdom, Hate Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:40:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23416864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellieellieoxenfree/pseuds/ellieellieoxenfree
Summary: Jailbreak, heartbreak. As you do and as you've done for a thousand years.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 85





	When Fate Deals Its Mortal Blow

It takes her more than a few moments not to think he’s a hallucination. It wouldn’t be the first time, or the second. The Doctor has had many ghosts, too many of whom have wandered through this cold cell, but he’s a presence more frequent than all of them. 

Nor does it surprise her when she hears the scuff of his shoe on the floor and the snort of amusement. 

‘You look dreadful, love,’ says the Master, and he grins down at her. ‘I like it.’

The Doctor doesn’t bother to draw herself up to meet him. She’s grown gaunt and pale after all this time, but even from the floor she can see the fresh hints of disarray — his eyes darting, the more-than-slight tremor to his hands, his suit gone wrinkled and filthy — and she knows that what had happened on Gallifrey rattles him even now.

‘Shame you escaped,’ she says to him. She’s still shifting into this new reality, where the Master isn’t just a figment of her imagination, but baiting him comes to her as easy as breathing. So much easier now to do it, she thinks, now that he’s scrabbling to re-assemble himself. It almost feels cruel to taunt him, but it would be far crueler to be kind.

The Master makes a _tch_ sound. ‘Can’t get everything we want, can we?’ 

‘What _is_ it you want?’ the Doctor says. ‘Surely this isn’t just a social call. Besides, the guards will be back soon, and I’m on a rather strict no-visitors policy.’

‘Come on, then,’ says the Master, stretching out his hand. The Doctor ignores it, and ignores the protests of stiff muscles as she stands.

‘Quite capable without your help.’ 

Anger crackles like electricity in the air. ‘I forgot,’ the Master says. ‘Running is the thing you’ve always been good at.’

—

The Master’s TARDIS is even more disorganized than it had been during his tenure as O. There are dishes piled in and around the sink, files sprawled across every surface, furniture strewn maze-like. A bookshelf sags with thick texts; a projector teeters precariously on a mountain of papers and folders. A sofa lies at cross-angles from a coffee table buried under the weight of magazines and binders and half-clipped newspapers. A quiet, steady hum emanates from a cluster of computers in a corner. It’s intended to mock her, the Doctor knows. The site of her first humiliation. She nudges a file cabinet drawer closed and shrugs with forced casualness. ‘Afraid if you’re in the market for a housekeeper, I’m not going to be much good of one.’

‘Don’t play stupid, Doctor,’ the Master says, spitting out her name like a bad taste. 

‘Oh?’ She lets the syllable roll around on her tongue, endowing it with as much venomous sweetness as she can. She can sense his coiled, nervous energy even without reaching out to him. He’s so close to the edge already, balancing on the verge of going supernova. 

He kisses her, then, with enough force to try to hurt, but she sinks her teeth into his lip first until she tastes blood and grips his chin in her hand when he goes to pull back. ‘Bold,’ she says, breathing the word into his mouth. ‘But stupid.’

She moves her hand lower to feel the cords in his neck and the heat of his skin. He’s shaking, ever so slightly, his hearts beating a furious tattoo. He wants to touch her again, she knows, wants to devour her, but he doesn’t move. Coward, she thinks, and shoves him away.

For a split second, there’s hurt in the Master’s eyes, which she notices before he clumsily shields himself again. He prods at the bloody hole on his mouth and laughs low in his throat. ‘I knew you had it in you,’ he says. ‘But come now, love. You can do better than that.’

The Doctor shrugs idly. ‘Didn’t need to.’ She slides her hand down his body, noting his hitch of breath, and rests it feather-light against the bulge of his erection. ‘Doesn’t take much to excite you, does it?’

‘Don’t you dare,’ he grinds out, trying to buck her touch again, but the Doctor only moves closer, tracing her fingertips over the strained fabric. 

‘There was never anyone else,’ she observes, without consideration for argument. ‘Do you even finish yourself off, or do you just wake up and have to clean up the mess?’

He looks like he wants to spit in her face. ‘None of your concern.’

The Doctor laughs and works to unfasten the Master’s belt. ‘I doubt you’d be able to last,’ she says, the words barely out of her mouth before he grabs her hand, squeezing so tightly she can feel the bones grind. ‘Go on. Prove me wrong.’

A growl of frustration escapes him, and the Doctor goes pliant and easy as he refocuses his attention on her clothing, his mouth covering what exposed skin his hands don’t. She wraps her fingers in his hair and yanks until she hears him hiss in pain, wraps her bare legs around him as he maneuvers them to the sofa. She sprawls there, flushed and delighted, watching him strip down, but when he moves towards her again she holds him at bay with one languidly pointed foot. ‘Are you willing to risk it?’

The Master steps away then, angry and wary in equal measure. He won’t keep his gaze on her face. He’s searching for an advantage now, the Doctor knows. She pushes herself up, resting one foot on the sofa, legs splayed. She’s already gone wet, and she slides her fingers inside before trailing them over her clit. There’s no hurry to it; her pleasure is entirely centered on watching him unravel. She gives way to a drowsy, easy pleasure, nudging at the edge of climax but not quite reaching it. ‘Come here,’ she says to the Master, drawing him down to her level and letting him suck the taste of her from her fingers. He groans, intensifying the sound when she removes them and pushes their slickness inside him. His cock stands at desperate attention, only the force of his pride keeping him from spilling.

There’s barely enough room on the floor for the both of them, but the Doctor pins him there anyway, leaning so close the fall of her hair creates an intimate space between them. His eyes are fever-bright and glassy, his face covered with a faint sheen of sweat. The throbbing ache between her legs grows in intensity at the sight of him, and she exhales her relief into his bloodied mouth when she feels his cock press inside her. His hands grip her ass, trying to pull her closer, and the Doctor entertains, for the briefest moment, offering him release.

But she doesn’t — _can’t_ , she tells herself with some small measure of regret. This isn’t the first time they’ve been like this, but the first in these bodies. It’s familiar and unfamiliar all at once, and she wishes, just for a moment, that she had more time to explore this feeling of their joining.

The Master’s expression turns to shock and betrayal when she forces his withdrawal; his hands clutch spasmodically at her, trying to bring her back. ‘You won’t — ‘ he says, a sort of half-choked noise, nakedly vulnerable.

‘Oh, I will,’ the Doctor whispers, all hesitation gone now. She shifts, her clit rubbing against the head of his cock, every nerve ending in her alive and humming. ‘I can and I will.’ 

She feels the universe contract, expand, and she reaches out with both voice and mind, her orgasm sending an involuntary shudder through her. Below her, she can hazily see the Master’s gone pale, momentarily too stunned to react. She can’t help but kiss him, maliciously gentle, before standing on shaky legs and taking in the sight of him. 

‘You look dreadful, love,’ the Doctor says, with all the tenderness in the world, and she bares her teeth. ‘I like it.’


End file.
